If I hadn’t seen it myself
I wouldn’t have believed
he pushed her down

That mild man, goaded
to act in a way
so out of character

She clawed at him
she flailed
he couldn’t get away

Pushed – I saw the shove
I saw her fall
to the floor

I saw it all

Phyllis Wax has yet to come to a reckoning with the wide range of poetic possibilities. From Milwaukee she sends her poems to find homes in print and online journals and anthologies. Quite a number have been adopted. Some are still on the loose. More hide inside her computer.